


Living On A Prayer

by lttledcve, spinncr



Series: I solemnly Swear [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marauders' Era, jily, lily didn't know she had the feels but she does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-10 21:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15958139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lttledcve/pseuds/lttledcve, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinncr/pseuds/spinncr
Summary: “Well?” She says, standing back hands on her hips. Because honestly, is he trying to torture her? Dirk doesn’t… he doesn’t look like that. Probably no one does, it’s ridiculous. She always thought he was a bit lanky, but there’s a surprising amount of muscle tone on his arms…“Put your shirt back on!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art by Blvnk](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/416831) by Blvnk-art.tumblr.com. 



> A series of Hogwarts!Jily RP threads inspired by Blvnk's gorgeous art. Please check her out on Tumblr!  
>  
> 
> This is an RP thread, so the POV will bounce back and forth between James and Lily.

In his defense, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Two heartbeats could be tricky.

The animagus thing, still somewhat shiny and new, the sensation thrilling in a way that almost feels losing control. And that just so happened to be source of the problem – James lost control. Control had slipped, and it had only taken a fraction of a second for Moony to catch the scent, and Padfoot half a second longer to intervene to give him enough time to scramble away and transform back.

Now that the castle is in sight, the relief washes over him. Two legs are easier to manage. It’s his chest that is burning, and he’s bleeding sure that his shoulder is dislocated – and he doesn’t have his cloak. It’s tucked away safely under the Whomping Willow for Sirius and Pete to use to get back before Madam Pomfrey goes to collect Remus.

Shite.

No matter. Or at least, that’s what James tells himself as he forces his legs to propel him forward and towards the magical stairway. The professors aren’t exactly focused with the recent attacks on muggleborns, and the latest rumor is that Dumbledore’s been called to the Ministry to discuss something with the Minister of Magic himself.

Idly, the thought crosses his mind that he ought to have his wand in hand. If Avery, or any of the others find him like this, well. It’s not exactly a fair fight, is it?  “Bugger,” James grunts out, after a half-arsed attempt to grab it from his back pocket.

It’s only a bit of a climb to the Gryffindor tower. It he makes it to the common, he’ll find someone there who can help—he can’t think of a single bloody spell and—

The footsteps coming from up ahead remind James that there are Prefects patrolling.

_ Please be ...Fuck, what’s her name? The Boot girl. Dottie? _

Wormtail was convinced the girl had a small crush on him, and while James normally wouldn’t—well, desperate times called for desperate measures, right?

Forcing his mouth into a relatively normal, yet lopsided, grin, he mentally prepared to be ready to woo at all costs, only to be momentarily thrown off.

Just his luck.

Right, still manageable. Still completely...and utterly....

“Alright, Evans?”

**_Fucked._ **

His hand finds the back of his head to ruffle up his hair, before James leans against the wall in a way that he hopes is suave... cool, even. Only, Lily is a touch blurry even with his glasses, and for a second it looks as if there’s two of her standing in front of him. “Lovely night for a brisk walk, just took one myself. There’s something soothing about it, really. Shall I leave you to it?”

 

**_***_ **

 

She’s been on edge all night. It’s a full moon, and she  _ knows _ what happens on full moons. Well, no, she doesn’t  _ know,  _ but she can guess that there’s some kind of combination of werewolves and idiots running around on the school grounds. It’s not her business, really, it’s not. If those boys want to kill themselves, they’re welcome to it. Just desserts, and all that. They’re not even her friends. Not really.

Well, Remus is. And he’s the least idiotic of them all, naturally. None of this is his fault either. She’d be terribly sad if something happened to Remus. Of course, he’s the only one she really doesn’t need to worry about. Poor Peter Pettigrew, she  _ does _ worry about him though. Potter and Black always getting him tangled up in their messes, and really, he’s not quite equipped to handle himself in those situations, is he? Not like Potter and Black can. If something happened to Peter because of those two… She  _ will  _ take away house points, even though it’s her own house. It would serve them right, honestly.

She’s made sure to schedule herself for patrol every full moon for the past year,  _ with _ Remus, if she’s able. That way, no one notices he’s left the common room, and she doesn’t have to worry about another prefect snooping around what’s not their business. It does make it a bit difficult on her, truth be told, covering the work of two prefects, but Remus deserves a break, and this is the least she can do. 

She’s not going to cover for Potter and Black, though. Especially after what they did to Dirk last week. Just because Potter has a raging hard on for her doesn’t mean he can hex her boyfriends. And honestly this was the third time in a row, she hadn’t forgotten about what they had done to Stebbins last year. 

_ Then there was Severus.  _

She isn’t going to think of that, though. This year, she’s starting over. No Marauders. No Sev. She’s going to stick with Marlene, and focus on school, and not fixate on the growing tension in the school hallways. The growing  _ fear.  _

The quiet dark of the hallways has an eerie feel tonight. Not because of Remus, and the howls that cut across the Great Lake now and then, but because of the attack yesterday on that poor fourth-year Hufflepuff. And Mary MacDonald hasn’t return to school this year—

There’s a thud, and a quiet  _ bugger,  _ from around the corner and her heart drops. She knows that tone, the way those lips wrap around those syllables, and she doesn’t spend any time thinking about it, honestly, she  _ doesn’t,  _ because there is no bigger prat on this entire bloody island than James Potter, and Lily Evans is certainly not daydreaming about his  _ lips,  _ she’s got a boyfriend, thank you very—

“James!” She shriek-whispers, sprinting over to him. There’s blood all over his shirt, and of course the idiot isn’t wearing a sweater, even though the nights have started to grow cool, and “Oh, for  _ fuck’s  _ sake, what have you done to your shoulder?!  _ Tergeo. Ferula. _ ” She shakes her head vigorously as she syphons off the blood and dirt soaking his clothes. She knows what he’s done to his shoulder, and knows also that he won’t tell her. He and his friends and their bloody  _ loyalty.  _ She doesn’t admire it. Admire him. She  _ doesn’t.  _

“Never mind. I don’t want to know,” she hisses, hiking his good arm over her shoulder. “Ten points from Gryffindor, for being a bloody puffed-up prat without an ounce of self-preservation. Stupid, arrogant, ‘must make myself a martyr’ James Potter–” She’s muttering now, as she hauls him up through the portrait with a viciously spit out “ _ Flobbergrout”  _ and if he trips on the frame, well he’s got himself a concussion, that’s hardly her fault, now, is it?

She lets him drop into the armchair by the fire, and rolls up her sleeves. Time to get to work.  _ Should let the bloody bastard bleed out for scaring her like this.  _

 

**_***_ **

 

It’s lucky, James supposes, that out of all the possible prefects, it’s Lily Evans who’s found him. Well, not so lucky for him personally, because he’s positive he won’t be able to keep up with her but...Well, he remembers Remus telling them all about the patrolling schedule when he’d first been named prefect. James remembers how nervous his mate had been at trying to figure out how to get out of patrol duty on full moons, and then how Lily Evans had swooped in and covered for him without anyone ever asking.

No, James is willing to bet his savings that Lily Evans knows all about Remus’ furry little problem. She’s absolutely brilliant. But as for the rest? Well, it’s not exactly his secret to share, so the challenge is going to be fighting off any kind of questions that get lobbed his way.

A wave of dizziness crashes over him and for a moment James feels lightheaded, and he grips the railing of the staircase tightly as he forces a grin out between grit teeth. James is about to say something - anything - to fill the silence, because Merlin he’s not really looking forward to it.

But she beats him to it.

And sounds rather...concerned. He must look as bad as it currently feels. “Bugger,” he says again, this time with a touch of amusement as he watches her hurry the rest of the way over to him. Also, she’s using his name, and not in the way he’s accustomed too, but there are probably more important things to worry about instead of the way that Lily Evans is saying  _ his name. _

Vaguely, James wonders if Dirk Cresswell knows how lucky he is.

The tightening of bandages around his shoulder is painful but a relief all at once, and James barely has a moment to register that she’s talking. “Er-” Quidditch is his gut response, mostly because it’s believable, only he’s just told her that he’d been out for a nighttime walk and that doesn’t exactly add up. He tripped? “Got into it with the Squid. Figured it was time to try and defend my honor...”

He barely blinks before...she’s trying to hold him up? The thought is startling, and James’ eyes widen as he looks down at her- this powerhouse of a witch, who has now decided not only to  _ not _ pry too much but...carry him back to the Gryffindor tower too? The corner of his mouth twitches in the start of something much more genuine, as James tries to keep most of his weight off of her. “Honestly, Evans. If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was ask. It’d be my pleasure.”

Only she’s taken it upon herself to  _ lecture _ him, and if it wasn’t so downright endearing it wouldn’t have been nearly as amusing. “A martyr!” He laughs out as best he can, tripping over the frame of the Fat Lady’s portrait –  _ “Oh my word! What’s happened to Mr. Potter?!” –  _ “That’s simply too much work Evans, who has the time to martyr themselves?”

He sinks into the plush armchair with a small grunt, eyes closing as he throws his head back. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Or nearly as bad as it could have been. He knows what could have happened if he hadn’t gotten control as quickly as he did. He knows what a bite would have done to him while in his human form.

But they had all known the risks when they had made the decision. And now, if it were possible, he’d go right back out.

Weighing the options, he might be able to convince Evans to help him heal up before he heads back out the portrait. But judging on the way Lily’s fussing –  _ fussing over him  _ – it doesn’t seem bloody likely.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll be right as rain.”

 

**_***_ **

 

Lily grits her teeth in an effort to bite her tongue. She’s not about to go off on the dangers of frolicking under the moon with a bloody werewolf to  _ James Potter,  _ who she has no doubt knows better than anyone else in this school the danger of a werewolf bite. Besides, she’d like a little plausible deniability when the time comes. She is absolutely  _ not _ aiding the Marauders in their mischief-making, and certainly doesn’t cover for them when they’re getting into trouble, but this? This is different. This is  _ Remus.  _ And if she’s being honest with herself, she’s glad they’re with him. It helps, she knows it does, and sometimes she can convince herself that being such good friends to Remus, well, it balances out all the shite they pull the rest of the time. 

Not that she’ll ever tell James that. 

“Apparently he lost a duel with the Giant Squid. Be sure to tell everyone,” Lily advises the Fat Lady, though she doubts it’ll have her intended effect of humiliating the imbecile. No, just her luck, the first years will start doing that weird worshipping-the-ground-he-walks-on thing they tried last year. She scoffs, overcome once more by how  _ infuriating  _ he is, and starts unbuttoning his shirt to get at that shoulder. “Oh, I’ll give you  _ something,”  _ she hisses, taking vindictive pleasure in jabbing at his bruises with the tip of her wand. “The squid must’ve had particular sharp teeth,” she mutters dubiously. Honestly, does he think she’s daft? “I’ve essence of murtlap here somewhere.  _ Accio.”  _ She decides to focus on healing him right now, because otherwise she’s not going to be able to help but fixate on the fact that she just  _ took off his shirt _ , and now  _ her fingers are touching his chest,  _ and honestly the shirt really didn’t  _ need  _ to come off, but also, it’ll give her better access to his injuries, and she’s touched plenty of people’s chests before, this is totally normal. Not at all alarming or, or, fairly well-muscled,  _ no— _

“ _ Brackium Emendo!”  _ She squeaks and his shoulder rights itself with a slightly sickening  _ pop!  _ Right. Well, good. Perhaps that’ll put him off roughhousing with wolves next month. “Well?” She says, standing back hands on her hips. Because honestly, is he  _ trying  _ to torture her? Dirk doesn’t… he doesn’t  _ look  _ like that. Probably no one does, it’s  _ ridiculous.  _ She always thought he was a bit lanky, but there’s a surprising amount of muscle tone on his arms… “ _ Put your shirt back on!” _

 

**_***_ **

 

“Oh, I won,” James manages to call back  _ cheerily _ before the portrait shuts. “Honestly, Evans. You ought to have a little more faith in me.” He really laughs now, because it’s rightly absurd to be joking like this when he’s fairly sure she’s deduced the real nature of his injuries, and he’s punished for his amusement. The shaking of his shoulders reminds James rather immediately that he shouldn’t be laughing, and his amusement ends with a slight groan, and his jaw clenched tightly.

He will  **_not_ ** vomit in front of Lily Evans.

Maybe he should be scandalized—or he should help—he can feel her fingers messing with the buttons of his shirt. “Evans, you shouldn’t have,” he manages to mumble half-heartedly, and it’s getting more difficult to keep his eyes open. It doesn’t stop the smile from growing though. There’s something nice about it, the way her fingers move and brush against his skin, and for someone who’s  injured he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.

The thought that she likely touches Dirk like this all the time is enough to spoil some of it, and bring the severity of the situation to the forefront of his mind. “Your bedside manner is shite, Lils. I hope you haven’t considered Mungo’s in your future.” The nickname slips before he can stop it, but James can’t quite care when he’s trying to smack her wand away from jabbing him.  “He does y’know. Underneath the beak, quite intimidating when you get so close.” It’s easier to breathe somehow, talking like this, so he continues on quite deliriously, as he manages to open his eyes to give her a wink, his head lolling to the side. “You should have seen it, Evans. Magnificent battle, the stuff that goes down in history.”

Of course she has what’s needed – brilliant woman. There’s a weird sense of pride bubbling in his chest, one that he has no right to feel, but it’s there nonetheless.

Until he remembers she’s quite capable of killing him.

“Merlin’s tit, Evans! A little warning would have been nice.” He’s more focused now, the pain breaking through the haze that has started to take over, but now that his shoulder’s set the nausea is starting to subside and it’s  _ so much better. _

“Shoulder’s fixed, you’re brilliant.” Is what he responds with, despite knowing that there’s likely a concussion, and he’s lost a fair amount of blood. But given the alternative, it’s good. And it’ll be easier to calm Moony down tomorrow and prove that he really is alright.

“My shirt? Evans you took it off.” James has half a mind to torture her, but instead, after a moment, he starts slowing attempting to shoulder it back on. “Taking advantage of me in my weakened state. I would’ve done if you’d asked.”

It’s so not the time to be flirting. Which makes it the perfect time, really.

“Lily—did you dock house points? Or did I imagine it?”

 

**_***_ **

 

The way his hand completely misses her wand when he tries to swat it away is frankly cause for concern in and of itself, but there’s still the rest of him to fix up and honestly, she doesn’t want to mess with his head. Her cheeks are growing warm, and it’s not because he called her  _ Lils,  _ it’s because his lack of garb is indecent. Just like the rest of him. And the wanker has the gall to wink at her.

She’s rewarded for her efforts with some rather lackluster profanity, if she’s being honest, and a  _ smile,  _ she swears to Merlin, he’s going to be the death of her. Poor Dirk doesn’t even have a clue. Thankfully, Potter doesn’t either. Or well, he hadn’t before she stood here gawking at his chest like a starry-eyed mooncalf. “‘Course I’m brilliant,” she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him. It’s doing absolutely nothing to hide her blush. She  _ had  _ taken off his shirt, this is an irrefutable truth, but she hadn’t had a choice. That’s less true, but Potter doesn’t need to know that. “Yes, in the name of  _ keeping you alive,  _ that’s all— _ Wait! _ ” 

For fuck’s sake, she’s a bloody mess. “Sorry. Um, you can’t your shirt back on yet. I forgot the murtlap. It’s for the bite. Or tentacles,  _ whatever.  _ And the bruising. It’ll help, just let me,  _ ahem. _ ” And now, for Merlin’s sake, she’s got to sponge the yellow tincture on his blasted chest. She transfigures one of his buttons into a sponge—“Oh relax, I’ll put it back after”— and dips it in the cauldron she’d conjured to hold the murtlap. 

She heaves a sigh and starts rubbing down the bite mark in gentle circular motions, making sure the excess murtlap falls into the gashes. “Of course I docked house points! I’m a prefect, and you’re out of bed past curfew! And you’re putting yourself, and I’m sure the rest of your motley crew in danger by testing fate with a wer—” She cuts off, and goes silent. It’s not her business, and truth be told, the damage isn’t nearly as bad as she would’ve thought it would be. Whatever they’re doing, they’ve been doing it awhile now, and no one’s died. It’s either incredibly surprising or entirely in character, she’s not decided yet. Instead of talking, she dips the sponge back in the cauldron and keeps going. He’s fine, he’s  _ fine,  _ and if Remus, or Sirius, or Peter, any of them, were hurt, there’s no way James would be here, right now, looking at her the way he’s looking at her. She swallows, and avoids his gaze, and absolutely does not imagine what it would be like to crawl into his lap and lay her head on his shoulder and just  _ hold on.  _

 

**_***_ **

 

Maybe if he felt better, he would have noticed that Lily’s cheeks were stained pink. Hell, maybe he would have noticed a lot more than what he currently was, and while James was positive that this was  _ different _ than just about the majority of their interactions, he didn’t know why. Surely it wasn’t simply because he was a bit bloodied and struggling to find his way back to the Common Room.

Or perhaps, it was. It would be just like Lily to help anyone who needed it, even the people she didn’t like. And his track record with her isn’t exactly the greatest, and he knows it. It’s a bad habit, James thinks, that his first instinct around the beautiful redhead is to promptly stick his foot in his mouth. So, he keeps it light. Not that he has much of a choice in this case, because as much as he wants to assure Lily that he knows what he’s doing, that it really is just flesh and that there is no risk of him being infected with lycanthropy because werewolf bites only affect  **humans** , the words never come.

He can’t without spilling others’ secrets as well, and well, it’s not exactly his place. This is separate, this is the  _ Marauders _ , and -

“What?” He winces, freezing anyway and praying that she hasn’t woken up more of the house. The last thing they need is an audience, Lily Evans and James Potter in the Common Room at whatever time it actually is, him bloodied and shirtless. “I’m very grateful Evans, truly, but d’you want the shirt on or off?”

It takes a moment, maybe two, before James blinks and nods and his shirt is discarded again so she can finish doing whatever she thinks will help. It’s already loads better, and he trusts her brain a hell of a lot more than he trusts his own at the moment. “Tentacles. C’mon, you and the squid are mates, remember?” There’s no malice, in fact he’s doing that thing where James is laughing without really laughing.

As long as she doesn’t have to tell any Professor why she’s docked him house points, he supposes it doesn’t really matter. It’s not the first, or last, time he’s cost Gryffindor house points and honestly, ten points is a rather small amount all things considered. He’s about to ask, to see if she needs some kind of reason before the actual one – he’s more than capable of providing her with one – but Lily continues and it’s all the confirmation James needs.

He already knew it, but it’s different hearing the word almost fall from her lips. “Lily,” James starts to warn, but it’s moot. She’s already shut herself up, and surprisingly, she isn’t asking him...well anything. She hasn’t asked him why he’s sure he’s safe, she hasn’t even asked for certain that the other lads are well involved even if she’s already guessed it on her own.

She’s not asking him anything.

So instead, James watches her quietly, not moving around as she tends to the scratches and bites, and he ignores the sting which is slowly leaving and focuses solely on her. She moves methodically, with a purpose but...

“Hey,” he reaches out carefully, fingers barely gazing her chin as he attempts to recapture her gaze. “’m alright, see?” James forces another smile, as if to somehow prove his point. “I already feel loads better. I’m alright, Lily.”

 

**_***_ **

 

It’s the way his voice changes, when he says her name. The way that Everything’s-a-Joke James Potter takes Remus’ secret so seriously, not willing to break his trust, not even with her… He’s a good friend, and she’s not sure why she’s only just realized it now.  The silence grows between them, and it’s tense, but not awkward. Just full of things neither one of them can say. “Is Remus alright?” She asks quietly, because she’ll never be able to sleep if she doesn’t know.

She  _ worries _ about them. Every day, all the time. Worries about how quick James is to fly to the defense of his friends, how eager Sirius is to pick fights with the Slytherins. She worries about the scars on Remus’ skin and how skinny he’s gotten, and how Peter got cornered by Mulciber on the train before James found him. She misses Mary, and is maybe leaning too hard on Marlene right now, but everything is just so  _ scary,  _ and it’s started to feel all too real, and James is off taking stupid risks like he always does and she can’t even hold it against him, because that’s just what he  _ does.  _

Her hands have fallen still on his shoulders, fingers tracing the healing pink skin of the bite mark, the sponge long since forgotten in the cauldron. Maybe he can feel that this is about more than just ten points from Gryffindor, too. She reluctantly raises her eyes to meet his, desperately trying to contain her blush when his fingers lift her chin, and can swear she feels his gaze all the way to her toes. 

_ Oh, poor Dirk… _

“I…” She’s biting her lip now and nodding absently, because he  _ is  _ alright, and that’s because of her (because honestly what would any of them do without her?) but of course he won’t stay that way, and she can’t keep him here, no matter how much she wants to, and  _ wow,  _ she isn’t prepared for how much she wants to, but that’s not something she can think about right now, because it’s too dark to see properly, but she knows there are a million different colors in his eyes and she wants to  _ count them... _

Oh bugger. “I— I need to go.” 

 

**_***_ **

 

_ Is Remus alright? _

Does she know how wonderful she is? He does. And even though James isn’t surprised, Remus is Lily’s friend and he never would have pegged Lily as someone to judge someone because of something like being bitten as a child, but...It’s bloody brilliant to see, especially now that the Ministry is turning even more against them. Fenrir Greyback isn’t doing any other werewolves any favors, especially those who aren’t lining up with You-Know-Who’s beliefs.

“Course he’s alright,” James nods. He has no way of truly knowing, both the map and his invisibility cloak are tucked away safely in the shack, but full moons ever since the transformations have been better. Remus is noticeably less injured after each excursion, and he isn’t limited to staying underneath the willow with only himself to beat up on. Between the group of them, they can keep him away from the school grounds and...

And it’s Sirius taking the brunt of everything now. Guilt seeps in quickly, even though James knows he’d be no good to them all out there right now, it doesn’t stop the thought of  _ he should be _ .

“He finished rounds a bit before you, I reckon. He’s likely upstairs fast asleep, all comfortable in bed.” They both know it’s a lie, just like they both know she lies all the time about Remus being with her on rounds. But it’s the best answer James can offer her other than the fact that Remus will be alright. “You’ll see us all at breakfast first thing.”

Maybe not Sirius. James’ll see how his best mate is feeling as soon as he can sneak back down once the sun comes back up.

Something in the air shifts, and James watches her quietly. There’s a million things he wants to say to her, all on the tip of his tongue, but something prevents it. She’s close, and she isn’t pushing his hand away, and really if he just brushed his thumb across her jawline. Hazel eyes flicker from green and move towards her lips – but she speaks, and  _ she’s right _ .

She’s dating some other bloke, and his head is spinning, and it’s not how he wants to do this.

He shouldn’t want to do anything.

“Right,” James blinks as he leans back into the chair, and nods more to himself than her. “Right. Try and get some sleep, Evans. Thanks for all of this.” He motions to the healing wounds on his chest, and shoulder. But before she can run off, he tries to catch her one more time. “And thanks for not asking, Lily.”

 


	2. hold on, ready or not

There is  _ no world _ , not a single universe in which Dirk Cresswell is worth her tears. No.  _ No.  _

The worst part is, she’s not even sad about it. Breaking up with Dirk hurts about as much as a stubbed toe, a quick sting and more quickly forgotten. No, she’s  _ mad,  _ only, just her luck, she’s an angry crier and Dirk is a  _ wanker.  _

“It’s Potter, isn’t it? You just gonna hop into his bed next, huh? That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“ _ Excuse me?  _ Not that it’s  _ any of your business  _ if I do! Besides, it’d make a nice change, getting to rub one out without having to listen to bloody  _ Gobbledegook in my ear all the damn time!”  _ Dirk turns bright red, and a muscle in his cheek tics. And okay, perhaps, in Dirk’s eyes, that’s crossing the line, because his love for the Goblin language is unparallelled, but honestly,  _ not a turn on.  _ It was kind of cute, at first, but just— _ no.  _

Also, she’s not going to hop into Potter’s bed, no matter  _ what _ anyone says, because this is  _ not about Potter,  _ nope. Nuh uh. Or his chest muscles. Or his stupid, foolish, dangerous loyalty to his stupid, foolish, dangerous friends. 

No, this is about Lily breaking up with her boyfriend, which has nothing to do with James Potter, and everything to do with her need to focus on NEWT preparations, and teaching herself more defensive spells and preparing to face whatever it is that’s coming. 

“I was only going with you to see if you were as good a shag as everyone says, but have to say, Evans, I was bloody disappointed! You’re a freak!”

She’s not a slut, she’s not a  _ freak,  _ she has to remind herself, furiously wiping away tears, she’s  _ sexually liberated,  _ and that is her prerogative, damn it. If Dirk doesn’t appreciate a damn good shag, well then, he doesn’t get one. She throws her books into her bag, and storms out of the common room, flipping him the bird as she goes. 

She’s almost to the Great Hall when everything catches up to her, and she pulls herself behind the statue of the dueling trolls, and sinks down to her knees. Dirk has always been so  _ kind,  _ she hadn’t expected him to get into such a tizzy, they’d never been all that serious to start with. And the things he had said, in the Common Room of all places, well, they’d been cruel. 

_ You’re a freak!  _

How come that was what it always came down to? This summer had been a nightmare with Petunia, and before that all of those Slytherins going on about her being a mudblood… She’d just wanted to do the right thing, and it wasn’t right, going with Dirk when she had… when last night she had almost… and with  _ James  _ of all people. 

She sits for a moment longer, letting herself slump against the cold marble, before squaring her shoulders. Dirk isn’t worth her tears. She’s not a freak, and she doesn’t give a damn if the world thinks she’s a slut. She’s allowed to have sex with whoever the bloody hell she wants, as often and as kinky as she likes. There’s nothing wrong with her. Fuck Dirk. 

Still, her eyes are a little red as she sits at the Gryffindor table. She’s never bothered to study the charms for modifying appearance, not like Dorcas has anyway, and she’d rather have puffy eyes than green spots all over her face, or something worse. Marlene scoots next to her and squeezes her hand subtly. She smiles, a bit weakly, and grabs some toast and beans. It’ll be fine. She’ll be  _ fine.  _

 

**_***_ **

 

Evans is brilliant, but James already knows that. By the time the sun had come up the bites and scratches had all been but faint pink lines on his skin. 

He still has a raging headache, but all things considered he can’t really find room to complain. 

So, it was with a great wide grin that James greeted his mates as they made their way back up the castle before the Professors and Matron made their way down to collect Moony. Convincing his friend that he really was  _ just fine  _ proves more difficult. James already knows that Remus will spin this in his head as his fault, that it’s dangerous and they can’t put themselves at risk like this, but honestly it’s all a load of shite and he’s no worse for wear than the rest of them. 

Besides, it’s bloody well worth it to see Remus like this after a full moon compared to how he’d been prior to them joining him. 

“Evans definitely knows,” James mumbles under his breath to the lads as they make their way in for breakfast. They’d all suspected it, but she’s all but confirmed it now and well...none of them ought to be surprised. Remus doesn’t, and again James finds his admiration for the witch growing. She’s  _ kind _ , and better than most. Lily, as well as many others, don’t deserve to go through what’s happening in the world right now. Neither does Remus, and before Moony can ask him for the umpteenth time if he’s alright, James clasps his shoulder and gives him a small look. “Don’t make me prove it to you, Moony.” He waggles his eyebrows for added effect, and that seems to do the trick as the group of boys make their way to their usual spot. 

Only Peter nudges him discreetly with a nod of his chin towards Evans, and James pauses.  _ It can’t have anything to do with last night.  _

Can it? The thought seems ridiculous, and so James waves it off. It’s unlikely Lily Evans is upset over something as simple as a couple of scratches and some blood spilt. 

“Morning ladies,” Wormtail supplies with a smile as he slings one leg over the bench, and James nicks a piece of sausage off of Marlene’s plate. He’s about to sit down next to her, subtly closer to Evans than his usual spot on the other side of the table, but he can see her this way.

He can also see Dirk Cresswell glaring daggers at him even more so than usual, and it’s an interesting development. 

“Morning Marls, Evans.” He’s ducking the swat that he knows McKinnon is about to toss his way for stealing food, and focuses instead on building his plate. “Say, you ever hear that one about a stag, and dog and a ra-”

He doesn’t get to finish because the boys are loud, and someone’s chucked a roll at him. Laughing he catches it, reflexes kicking in before it can hit its intended target of his face, before he glances at Lily and gives her a small smile. 

 

**_***_ **

 

Of course.  _ Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.  _ It takes barely five minutes for Potter and the rest of them to drop into the places surrounding her and Marlene. Her stomach drops, and she can’t tell if it’s anticipation or nausea swirling around in her gut. She can tell just by the way he holds himself that James isn’t feeling as much pain as he had been last night, and she’s uncomfortably glad by that fact. He also looks stupidly handsome with his ridiculous hair and wrinkled robes, and before she even gets a chance to look at him, she’s aiming her foot at him under the table because  _ honestly!  _

From the way Sirius yelps, it’s clear she missed her mark. The grin lights on her face as she meets James’ eye, but quickly dies as she spots Dirk over his shoulder. He leans over and whispers something to Amos who starts sniggering in her direction. She sets her toast back on her plate, uneaten. “I, um… I’ve got to go to the library. Later, Marls. Bye boys,” she waves and grabs her bag, before pausing, her eyes caught on James. The urge to say goodbye to James wells up, and she frowns. There’s no reason to say goodbye to him especially. He’s not  _ special. _

Their eyes lock and she drags her gaze away. “Yeah, um. Bye,” she says again, and walks away, scurrying out of the Great Hall. She can still feel Dirk’s gaze on her, and the flush in her cheeks has nothing to do with the warm preoccupation she had felt last night. This time it’s all rotten and ashamed. 

 

**_***_ **

 

Something’s off, and for the life of him James can’t put his finger on it. 

“Alright, Padfoot?” James asks with a grin, at least having a faint idea of what’s caused his best mate to cry out. He also knows that it was likely intended for  _ him _ , but he doesn’t know what the bloody hell he’s done already this morning to deserve it. Saying good morning was polite, the sort of things friends would do, and honestly he’s willing to take the witch’s companionship in any way she’s agreeable to at the moment. 

Friends patched each other up after all, didn’t they? 

He’s missing most of the conversation that’s going on around him, but it’s always been a bit hard to focus when Lily’s around. She’s quieter than usual, and it’s impossible to miss how red her eyes are. She’s upset, and it’s not something a few jokes is going to fix. 

Amos Diggory is loud,  _ obnoxious,  _ and not at all subtle in the gestures he’s making to Dirk Cresswell. James’ eyes narrow as he makes it a point to catch the Hufflepuff’s gaze, and it doesn’t take much to get the prat to shut up, and practically gulp as he returns his attention to something other than the Gryffindor table. 

James, determined to not put his foot in his mouth, turns his attention back to Lily curiously. What’s happened in the past twenty four hours to have Dirk and Amos whispering like gossiping birds instead having of the arse-hat encroach upon his space and foul up the atmosphere with his ridiculous attempts to impress his girlfriend? 

It’s rude to ask, he reckons, and when Lily finally meets his gaze as she stands up, he’s confused. She’s never hesitated to say anything to him before, but now it seems like she is...and he feels like a bit of an idiot when she mumbles another goodbye and stalks out of the Great Hall. 

Now that James’ attention has been brought to him, Amos wisely doesn’t make a sound. 

He should follow after her, he thinks, his fingers drumming an old song idly on the table top. Friends look out for one another, offer help or comfort when needed. He could do that for her. He could be that for her, if she wanted. 

Someone’s coughing to get his attention, and James’ ears feel warm as he turns back to the group. “Shove off, Wormtail,” he tosses with no real meaning behind it before turning back to Marlene. “Right. So what’s that all about?”

 

**_***_ **

 

Sirius watches Evans go, brow furrowed as he rubs at his shin. He hasn’t even said a  _ word _ , seeing as he hasn’t had his morning cuppa yet and doesn’t believe language is possible without caffeinated fuel to spur it forward.  _ Something’s _ got Evans’ wand in a knot, and nine times out of ten it’s Prongs’ fault. By the time he’d gotten in this morning, James was passed out, but looking a lot better than he had when Sirius had last seen him. Sirius would bet his family’s Gringotts vault that Evans was responsible for that. Prongsy couldn’t manage healing spells for shite. 

Sirius nicks the rest of the sausage link Prongs had nabbed for McKinnon, and lazily accios Moony’s plate across the table to land in from of him. Moony just rolls his eyes and prepares a second while McKinnon scoffs. 

“Oh, as if you don’t know,” she drawls, biting down on her piece of bacon with a frankly terrifying snap of her teeth. Sirius meets James’ confused look with a grunt and a shrug of his own. He’s got nothing. And also still no coffee. “C ome on!” Marlene continues. “I was awake when Lily came in last night.” She’s leaned in now, whispering, and honestly if she’s going to be talking in code, he needs that damn coffee. He accios Wormtail’s cup the moment he’s finished adding sugar, and takes a deep gulp, ignoring the resultant squawk. “Ugh, Wormy, no one makes better coffee than you.” 

For his part, James looks even more confused than before. Remus pitches in. “She was on rounds last night. With me.” Marlene’s eyes narrow at him, but go back to Prongs. 

“Alright then, Remus, she break up with Dirk over  _ you?”  _

“ _ What?!”  _ Remus and Sirius both shout at the same time, and Sirius chokes on his coffee. “Prongs, mate, I know I don’t process a lot before breakfast, but you could’ve mentioned it.”

 

**_***_ **

 

Breakfast is no longer important. Well it is, and his stomach grumbles as if to solidify the point, but how in Godric’s name is he supposed to focus on food when Marlene isn’t sharing all the details? His fork is pushing around his eggs aimlessly, and his elbow nudges the plate closer to Sirius so he can pick off of it while he waits for Moony to finish making his. 

It happens every bloody morning, you’d think the lads would be used to it by now.  

None of this has to do with Evans though, or why she’s in such a state- and honestly if Dirk Cresswell looks at him one more time he’s going to give the git something proper to look at. 

James shares a confused look with Sirius, as if he’s asking him to clarify because she’s not making any sense. “No, Marls. I have no bloody clue what you’re on about.” He isn’t being difficult, or trying to torture her, but honestly she’s speaking in riddles and this is  _ Evans.  _ He needs all of the facts. So when she leans in, James follows suit because of anyone has all the facts surrounding the witch who’s just left, it’s her best friend. “Last night? Honestly, Marlene. She found me out after curfew and docked house points. Nothing to write home about. It’s not even the largest amount I’ve lost this month.” 

He’ll make up the points in the next Quidditch match anyways. 

Good old Moony jumps in the save the day, but Marlene isn’t having it. James opens his mouth to confirm, but only...her words finally sink in, and his eyebrows furrow and he feels gobsmacked.

Lily Evans broke up with her boyfriend over him?

She broke up with  _ Dirk _ ?

James waits a few moments, waits for the other shoe to drop to show him that Marlene is getting a good laugh in, but it doesn’t come. Briefly he remembers Lily’s blush from the previous night, but honestly he had thought he had imagined it at the time. 

“How would I have known that?” He asks Marlene, still half paying attention to the conversation as his brain works overtime to compute and make sense of what he’s been told. “I would’ve done if I’d known, Padfoot.” Sirius is always the first person he tells anything and he definitely would have mentioned this. 

He supposes it makes sense now that Cresswell can’t go more than two minutes without shooting him a look. But honestly, he hasn’t done anything. Not really. A hand reaches up to ruffle his hair, and hazel eyes flicker back towards the direction Lily had just gone off in. He should follow after her, he will, James decides. But perhaps not before he sends a nice hex in Cresswell’s direction.

“Might not have anything to do with me,” he reasons finally, his plate already pushed back because he knows he’ll follow after her. Food isn’t nearly as important, and he can take her to the kitchens if she wants to eat with a little privacy. “He’s not exactly a catch, now is he?”

 

**_***_ **

 

This is either great news or terrible news, and honestly, even if it’s great, it’ll still be terrible, because James is at his absolute worst when he’s pining for Evans, which is always, to be fair, but also a whole lot worse when he actually thinks he stands a chance. He rips into a piece of toast and glares at Cresswell. Bloody ponce. If he keeps looking at James like that, Sirius will  _ give him _ something to look at. 

“She docked points?” Sirius asks, appalled. “From her own  _ house?” _ Not actually the first time, but as James has pointed out, Lily  _ knows.  _ Why would she take points off if she knows what they were up to? A voice in his head which sounds suspiciously like Remus replies that it’d be just like her to take points off out of worry. “Blimey, Prongsy, you said you were fine!” ‘Course, Sirius had known he was lying through his teeth, but he’d also known he was  _ okay-ish _ otherwise Sirius wouldn’t have let him come back on his own. There wasn’t really much he could do at the time, seeing as he was busy corralling a werewolf. Maybe he’d’ve sent Wormy back with James, fat lot ‘o good that’d do him, but you know, still. Peace of mind and all that. 

“Well, I just assumed you knew about it, seeing as they were fighting over  _ you _ this morning at arse o’clock. Something about her hopping in your bed?” Marlene goes on, accusation hard in her eyes. If there’s a single person in this world that cares about Lily Evans more than James Potter, it’s Marlene McKinnon. Sirius does not envy his best mate one bit, right now.  

Though, in his defense, there is no way Lily was anywhere near Prongs’ bed, or he in hers. The entire school would’ve known. There’s a vague plan for the occasion, involving some of Dr. Filibuster’s best, and a pact with Peeves that’s been years in the making. So no, that hasn’t happen, but Dirk apparently thinks it has, going by the look on his face. Sirius flings a bit of egg at Dirk, and nails him right in the forehead. “Oi! Paint a portrait, Cresswell! You can wank to it later!” Then, because Dirk might honestly pull his wand on them at this point, he says to James, “Mate, you might wanna go find her? I’m just saying…”

 

**_***_ **

 

“Priorities, mate,” James laughs. Out of all the tidbits of information they’re being fed at this very moment, the fact that Lily docked points hardly seems like the one to focus on. Then again, James’ mind is struggling to process all of it. The only thought that seems to stick, on repeat mind you, is the fact that for some reason Marlene is under the impression that Lily ended things with Cresswell because of something to do with _him_.

“I was, I  **_am_ ** fine,” he interjects quickly, because he can see the question written across Marlene’s face, and because the last thing they need to get Moony all worked up about it again. “Mere scratches honestly, serves me right.” James doesn’t expand any further, they’re not exactly in an appropriate setting for such a private conversation, and he doesn’t know what Lily’s chosen to share with Marlene. The last thing he needs to do is give a conflicting report, and if his memory serves him correctly he had spewed some shite about the giant squid. Quidditch would have been enough to put Marlene at ease, but it’s not a risk he’s willing to take at the moment.

_ Something about hopping in your bed? _

James doesn’t notice the look Marlene’s giving him, he’s too busy standing up, his hand moving towards his back pocket, itching for his wand. “He- he accused her of-?!” His voice is strained, his jaw clenched in an attempt to keep his temper at bay because no matter how upset Lily is, he can’t imagine she’d be too thrilled if he started a duel with her ex in the Great Hall. No matter how much the pillock deserves it.

His temper is momentarily squashed by the sight of eggs that somehow manage to hit Cresswell smack in the middle of his forehead, and James is laughing, his hand finding Sirius’ shoulder immediately. “Brilliant aim, Padfoot!”

Cresswell looks as if he’s ready to storm over to their table, and James’ eyes flash in anticipation, and he’s moving as if to make his way and meet him halfway, but Wormtail’s grabbing his arm, and well...Sirius is right, isn’t he? They’re already gathering the attention of the Professors in the room and well...”Right you are, mate. Right you are.” Dirk Cresswell isn’t going anywhere, and if he really wants to have a go at it, James is more than willing.

“I’ll catch up with you lot later. Always a pleasure, Marls.” He pauses. “You too, Cresswell! Like Sirius said, I’m happy to sit for a portrait anytime, just give me a shout!” And with one last grin, he turns his back on the arse and walks out of the room.

It doesn’t take much effort to find Lily, even without aid from the map. She’s sat at her usual study table, and it takes him only a moment to swallow any hesitation before he slides into the seat next to her. James remains silent, leaning back so that the chair is resting only on its hind legs, and his gaze remains on her – waiting to see if she’ll say something...anything. It’s only when he can’t take the silence anymore, he interjects.

“C’mon, Evans. I want to show you something.”

 

**_***_ **

 

It’ll blow over, Lily knows it will. She’s just sixteen, boy drama isn’t going to ruin her life. It just… it feels like shite. But she’ll get over it, Dirk will get over himself, and hopefully those dumb boys will blow up another corridor or something, and everyone will be talking about that instead. And until then, she’ll just put her head down and do her school work and, and—

She drops her head into her hands and just takes a breath. 

_ Fuck Dirk.  _

She gets out her parchment for Transfiguration and gets to writing, but she barely has two minutes to focus before  _ he _ drops into the chair opposite. The urge to scream almost overtakes her, but she just presses her quill to the parchment harder, almost enough to break the nib, and pretends like he’s not there. 

_ Unlike Vanishment, Conjuration is restricted by several natural laws of magic known as the Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration states that— _

He isn’t going away. In fact, he’s doing that infuriating thing where he defies gravity on the legs of his chair, looking sleepy and concerned, and all those colors in his eyes she had tried to see last night are  _ still  _ invisible, thanks to the dim lights in the library, and that’s  _ maddening.  _ When he does finally talk, she’s flabbergasted. “I’m  _ working _ , Potter. I can’t just—” but apparently she can, because she’s already stood up, and is packing her bag. “Some of us actually need to  _ study.  _ You know, that thing where you actually  _ do  _ the homework and the readings and don’t just conjure answers out of thin air?”

 

**_***_ **

 

He’s never done well with silence, especially when he has nothing to do with his hands. The snitch isn’t on hand, hell, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s played with it, and he doesn’t have parchment or a quill to doodle with. It’s probably for the best, as he can trust his traitorous hands not to draw something completely damning in front of her, but Merlin the silence will drive him mental.

And for the life of him, he can’t figure out what she’s working on. He tries to catch sight of the words, and he catches something about Transfiguration, but as far as he knows there hasn’t been any homework assigned. Not that he’s ever fallen behind in Transfiguration...McGonagall has even been kind enough to give him extra projects when he’s bored.

But she finally breaks the silence, and if it wouldn’t have been so utterly pathetic James would have blown out a sigh of relief. “You can just,” James insists, because she’s the brightest witch in this entire school. There isn’t anything she can’t do, and a simple Transfiguration essay isn’t going to make or break her grades at Hogwarts. His pulse jumps in anticipation, she’s standing after all – she’s actually  _ agreeing _ to come along – and James doesn’t take long to follow suit, his chair scraping noisily across the floor as he pushes it in. “I know what studying is,” he doesn’t laugh outright, and instead it’s laced within his voice as he speaks, and his eyes dance with it as he nods towards the door.

He’d offer her a hand if he wasn’t so sure that was the exact wrong thing to do, all things considered.

“This way.” They’re heading back towards the Entrance Hall, but she’ll just have to trust him, James decides. He’s not taking her back to the Great Hall, even if he thinks she has nothing to hide from. It’s her prerogative after all, but...It’s hardly half past eight, and she should eat. Or she should at the very least, have the option of eating without the rest of the student population gawking at her because of Cresswell’s dick-ish insecurities.

Just before they come to the Great Hall, James pushes a side door open, revealing a set of stairs that will take them towards the basement. “After you, Evans.”

 

**_***_ **

 

It’s not until James stands up that she realizes what she’s done, and curses herself. Spending  _ more _ time with Potter is only going to make this whole ordeal blow up even more and that’s exactly the opposite of her plan to endure and overcome. That’s fanning the flames, which is hardly surprising, because that’s what Potter does best, she supposes. Still, he hasn’t said anything about that horrible argument this morning, which he  _ has  _ to have heard, and he’s not running his mouth about Quidditch or how clever he is. He’s just… smiling? It’s weird, and uncomfortable, and makes that nausea-anticipation roil around in his stomach again, like she’s got a gaggle of Cornish Pixies in there, and it’s  _ nice _ , even if she might be sick, because  _ he’s _ being nice. For fuck’s sake, she’s not going to cry in front of James Potter. 

And then he starts leading her back to the Great Hall, and she almost turns around and walks away. He wouldn’t be that cruel, would he? Or is he trying to do something stupid like prove his masculinity by dueling for her honor (and while she doesn’t need  _ anyone _ to defend her honor,  _ or _ duel on her behalf, she absolutely would like to see Dirk take a few hexes to the face right now), or proclaiming his love for her on top of the Hufflepuff table (again)? She might kill him. She  _ will  _ kill him, and that’s the only reason why she follows him, morbid curiosity and an insatiable desire for murder. She’s not picky at the moment. Anyone will do. 

Instead, right before the turn, he opens a door that she swears has never been there before. “Where does this go? Is this some kind of prank? I’m really not in the mood today, Potter. And I have to finish that essay for McGonagall—” Still, she finds herself walking down the stairs regardless. There’s a solid chance this detour will make her late for her first class, but she’s overcome by the sudden urge to just  _ not go.  _ She never skivs off class, but she’s not necessarily against it. It just always seems like a stupid idea, especially now that they’re in NEWT levels…

But if James asked her to right now, she’s not sure what she would say. 

 

**_***_ **

 

She’s following him, and James  _ feels  _ the hesitation rolling off of her in waves. Does she think he’s going to lead her to her death or something? The thought is so absurd, he’s not fool enough to think that he can pull a fast one of Lily Evans, but Merlin’s Beard- why is she following after him if she’s so concerned? He doesn’t dare to question it, it’s more than he thought she’d give him. If it was any other day, James likely would have tried to turn the inch into a mile, but not today. He doesn’t know what the hell his role in this break up is, or what even prompted it, but there will be time for all of that.

He hopes. Merlin knows how he hopes. James wants to know everything, he wants to ask her why, and why now all of a sudden, but it’s not the time.

And if he’s waited, and tried more seriously, this long... He can a bit longer. No, he will. It’s an easy decision, and honestly, she looks like she could really use a break. Besides, he kind of owes her, doesn’t he? Putting the ten house points she’s docked aside, she saved him a lot of trouble. Madam Pomfrey likely wouldn’t have bought any excuse he could of come up with at that hour, and while Quidditch might have been a perfect excuse, the Matron likely would question the hour of it. No, Lily saved him a lot of trouble...and in the process may have prevented a prison sentence.

He isn’t too keen on Azkaban, after all.

“A little faith, Lily. I’m not a complete monster.” Although, seeing as she seems to have no idea where he’s leading her, he can hardly blame her hesitance. His reputation isn’t the most stellar, but she can’t think that he’s leading her to her death or something, can she?

No, but he is taking her somewhere new, and James starts to get excited. It’s magical, and not really well known, but to share something like this with her? Well the lads can hardly get mad at him, it’s not as if he’s showing her the entire map.

And really, she  _ should _ eat.

“All of your excuses are noted. I give you my word we can leave whenever you want, alright? I solemnly swear it.” His eyes are bright again, both at his joke and the fact that they’re nearly there. The corridor is brightly lit, and James leads her past the multiple food themed paintings, only to stop in front of the one of a bowl of fruit.

Stuffing his hands into his back pockets, James turns to grin at her as he rocks back on the balls of his feet. “Go on. Tickle the pear, Evans.” He nods towards the painting.

 

**_***_ **

 

And he’s right, he’s  _ not _ a monster at all. In fact, he’s been positively calm this term. Granted, they’re not exactly far off, but still. If this is a prank, she doesn’t think it’ll be mean one. For one, Sirius wouldn’t miss it if it was nasty, those are always his favorite. For two, he’s too…  _ excited?  _ Practically bouncing on his toes, and she has to actively stop herself from smiling along with him. She’s not happy, she’s upset, and it’s kind of his fault, even though he didn’t really do anything wrong, Dirk is just an  _ arse.  _ But still, Potter had contributed, with his flirting and his pranks and his  _ chest _ . So she’s not going to smile. She’s  _ not.  _

“Excuse me?” She asks incredulously. “Tickle your own damn pear, Potter,” she retorts in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. She might have experience in the bedroom—and the broom closet, and the potions supply cupboard—but that doesn’t mean he can just come out and tell her to  _ tickle his pear.  _

And then she sees the bowl of fruit in the portrait in front of them, and this time, well he’d have to be blind not to see her blush. “Oh, bugger off, you,” she says, but there’s no biting back the embarrassed grin this time around. She reaches up to tickle the bloody pear and stops just before. 

If this is some kind of cruel joke… she might honestly lose it. She looks at him for a minute, hand outstretched. “Promise me it’s not bad?” And then she tickles the pear.

 

**_***_ **

 

The look she’s giving him is, he reckons, isn’t meant to be funny, but for the life of him James can’t help himself. It’s not as if he’s given her a hard set of instructions, she’s a capable witch. He doesn’t recognize the implications of the statement, however, because the pear is  _ right behind him.  _ “What?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed for a moment, only to try and hold his laughter in...and he fails. Miserably. James isn’t quiet, his laughter echoes in the corridor because surely she can’t think that  _ that  _ would be his big move? That  _ that  _ is how he would go about trying to, well, woo her after a public break up? 

He does make a  _ valiant  _ effort to stop laughing for her benefit, only her now embarrassed grin is close to sending him teetering off the edge again. “Evans! I am shocked, no I am  _ befuddled.  _ You’re going to infect my delicate senses with your impure thoughts. Honestly, maybe I shouldn’t have brought you down here. I don’t know if I can share my secrets with someone who’s looking to  **_corrupt_ ** me!”

It’s over the top, and it’s a touch dramatic, but she has to expect it by now. 

And now she’s hesitating. 

“Tickle the damn pear, Evans,” James grins. “The one  _ in the portrait _ , if you please.” 

Part of him expects her to back down, but when she goes ahead and does it without really waiting for his answer, he’s struck once again by how incredible she is. He imagines not many would just take him, or any of the boys, at face value, but for whatever reason she does. The pear giggles at her touch, and it slowly begins to morph into a doorknob. 

“Ladies first.” A part of him itches to move forward, and he can’t keep from fidgeting as James waits for her to open up the door that will lead them into Hogwarts’ kitchen. But the experience is important, and some things can’t be rushed. 

Timing is, after all, everything. 

 

**_***_ **

 

Even  _ she _ , even today, has trouble not cracking a grin at his antics. But honestly, you can’t just tell someone to tickle a pear out of the blue. This  _ is  _ Hogwarts though, and she experiences a warmth bloom in her chest for the ridiculousness of the place as the pear dances and giggles. Biting her lip, she opens the door and…

Gapes. 

“This is the…?”  _ Kitchens.  _ Honestly, it’d never occurred to her that Hogwarts even  _ had  _ kitchens. She’d read something about it in Hogwarts: A History, back in first year, she vaguely recalls now that she thinks of it, but that’s been years ago. “How did you find this?” She asks breathlessly, stepping through the portrait hole. 

The kitchens are warm and bursting with activity, all her favorite scents in one place, house elves tripping all over themselves to greet her. “Hi, oh, hello there, oh wow, okay, thank you! Yes, that looks delicious!” They’re swamping her now, each one carrying this dish or that, and  _ oh,  _ there’s a fully set table— and she can’t help it, she turns to beam at James. “This is amazing! I can’t believe no one knows it’s here!” His smile is sheepish and his cheeks are flushed, and she hadn’t even realized how much she needed something exactly like this. No Gryffindor shouting matches and people pointing and whispering to each other about her and  _ Dirk.  _ Just warmth and coziness and, well.  _ James.  _

She pulls out a chair, giving a little  _ oof!  _ as an overzealous elf snaps her fingers and the chair jolts forward. “Well, you’re not gonna make me eat this all by myself, are you?”

 

**_***_ **

 

Just as soon as James walks in and closes the portrait behind them, they’re swarmed. There’s at least one hundred of them, and each of them are eager to bow or curtsey in greeting, and are happy to help, just as he knew they would be. He’s trying to catch Lily’s eye, he’s determined to watch her reaction, only a friend of his has got a hold of his hand and is moving him towards the other end of the table that’s set, and James is hunched forward from the momentum.

“Right, no, no -  not today, mate. Sirius, Remus and Peter are upstairs- yeah? No, it’s wonderful – but my friend, Lily, she’s right over there, and I-”

It’s damn near impossible to get a legitimate sentence in, but James’ lips quirk in a smile, and when he finally,  _ finally _ , catches Lily’s eye, he winks.

He doesn’t know how many students are aware of the kitchen’s location, or even how to access it, apart from himself, the Marauders, and now Lily.  James also isn’t prepared to explain exactly how he knows where the kitchen is, or how he, Sirius, Remus and Peter went about finding it. “Hogwarts is full of secrets, Evans. This is just one of them.” Maybe one day he’ll show her the tunnel that leads to Honeydukes, or the many other passages that are hidden.

For now, this is enough. He can see some of the tension leave her shoulders as she takes a seat, and almost instantly the table is full of the same foods that had appeared on the tables up in the Great Hall. It’s an option, and this time, it looks as if he may have just guessed right.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” he laughs as he’s all but deposited into the other chair, and James gives Lily another grin before reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice. It’s not a date, it’s not. This has nothing to do with wooing her, and everything to do with...just making her smile.

There’s a lot more James wants to say. The fact that Cresswell is a berk remains at the top of the list, but he refrains.

Instead his ears feel warm again, and his hand reaches up to ruffle his hair. “Just, er, figured you might want to eat.”

 

**_***_ **

 

He hadn’t even been planning on staying. The realization has her slightly dumbfounded. He’d brought her here, shown her what was no doubt some super-secret Marauders hideaway, just to… make sure she eats breakfast?  _ With no prying eyes.  _

It’s not some ploy to get her to say yes to a date, he’s not trying to force his company on her. He hadn’t even been planning on staying. She bites her lip, the smile so big it’s near impossible to suppress and takes a bite of some kippers. He’s being  _ nice.  _ She thinks of what Sirius looked like last year after the hols, and what he looked like this September. Remus had told her that Sirius had spent the summer at James’, and it showed, like someone had lifted a thousand pounds from his shoulders.  _ James  _ did that. James  _ does _ that. 

Has he always been this good? Had she somehow overlooked it? Maybe to the people he cares about, but he’d been cruel, too, to those he wasn’t invested in. She likes this so much better, and realizes that she hasn’t seen that casual cruelty yet this year (except for maybe directed at Dirk, but she can’t make herself pretend to feel bad about that right now), and she hopes, hopes  _ so much _ that maybe it’s gone for good. “Thanks, James,” she says quietly, but meaning it with her whole heart. “I, um. I really needed this.”   
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought you two were studying together these days? Is it not helping?” Marlene asks innocently, and honestly, Lily is gonna kill her. “Maybe it’s a problem with focus. Something on your mind, Evans? Something… distracting you?”
> 
> “Yeah, thoughts of murder,” she hisses back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at pr0ngs and mrspr0ngs. :)

“No, no, in what world is this good, Marls? I’m going out of my mind!” Lily moans, sprawled across Marlene’s lap in the common room. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. He’s, he’s—” He’s charming, and brilliant, and so clever, and handsome— “obnoxious. He keeps popping up whenever I’m trying to study and, and—” bringing her snacks so she doesn’t have to break for lunch, dropping off the notes she forgot in the common room in case she needed them, reminding her of the deadline she’d forgotten about— “distracting me! And we’ve our first examinations coming up, and I’ve fallen so behind, and it’s honestly all his fault, and—”

Marlene is raising her eyebrow, but doesn’t stop running her hands through Lily’s hair, which is honestly the only thing that matters. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Lils, but didn’t you invite him to study with you? And Remus said you asked James to bring your notes by after ‘forgetting them’, which, babe, I literally watched you pull them out of your bag and put them on the table over there, so I don’t know who you think you’re fooling—”

“Alright, no! Well, yes, I invited him to study with me, but only once, for that damn Transfiguration essay because you know he’s ridiculously talented at Transfiguration, and I needed the extra eye, but he took is as like, blanket permission—”

“To what, use the library? And actually, I was going to say he’s gotten so much nicer this term. Even Sirius has been like, a thousand times more sufferable than usual. At least with us, anyway.” And yeah, everything has gotten worse on the Slytherin front, but actually, that’s their fault, and privately, Lily thinks James has been acting with a lot of class when it comes to all the taunting. She sighs into Marls’ knee and kicks her leg out in a fit of peak. 

“This is terrible, Marlene. I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s driving me batty, I can’t study, and I’m constantly looking over my shoulder for him, and he’s got to know. He’s just got to, and what will I do, huh? When he finds out? It’s going to be awful.”

“Oh yeah, positively dreadful, you’d probably like, snog all the time, and make beautiful magical prodigy babies and get to lick his abs, like, whenever you want, which we all know would be always. How terrible.”

 

***

It’s getting worse. The tension that’s been rising for years feels like it’s finally hitting a boiling point, a point that had bubbled over with Mulciber and Mary- and James is seething. In the grand scheme of things, he knows it’s not important. He knows that Quidditch, and one time dreams of playing professionally, are hardly on the list of priorities for anyone at Hogwarts – although he does maintain that McGonagall does care about the Cup – it’s not right.

Sharing the pitch with the Slytherins had been a bad idea. And when one of their beaters, having decided to practice with bludgers, had smashed the bloody thing across the pitch into his practice and nearly hit one of his players –

“Calm down, Potter. You’re going to break your own jaw.”

“Better that than Avery’s face.” There’s a chorus of laughter behind him, and although James has chosen to joke it off – well, it’s not really that funny, now is it? It’s the same group of students behind it, behind everything, and they’ve already proven once how far they’re willing to go to push that wizard’s agenda.

And even with a clean bill of health for all players from Madam Pomfrey, James can’t help himself, as he thinks that maybe he would have been better off breaking Avery’s jaw with his fist in the mud of the pitch. But with his team ready to jump in after him –

“Nah, we want to win the Quidditch cup anyway, don’t we?”

The Fat Lady’s portrait swings open and the team starts to disperse. Showers are desperately needed, the events which had disrupted the practice had taken over, and any thoughts of showering before trudging up to the castle had been long forgotten. He’ll need to update the boys on everything too, if they haven’t already heard, but just as he’s about to make his way upstairs he spots the two of them.

His shoes squish from the wetness as he makes his decision, but the fire’s right there and honestly, those two girls together are dangerous, and curiosity gets the best of him.

“What’s terrible?” He asks as he flops into the plush armchair, the very one only mere weeks ago he’d been slumped over in as Lily had done her best to heal him up so that he wouldn’t need to have his injuries documented in the hospital wing. “Because if you think it’s Gryffindor’s odds at winning the Quidditch cup, well...We haven’t lost one yet, now have we?”

*** 

Lily’s eyes widen when they land on James, and honestly. It’s indecent. He’s sweaty and his messy hair is a crime against humanity really, and he’s— oh, he’s mad. There’s nothing that really gives it away; she’s learned in the past few weeks that when push comes to shove, he hides any anger, hides his fear and disappointment, because the Gryffindor common only needs a single spark, and it’s ready to blow it top on Slytherin. 

“Yeah, Lils, what’s so terrible,” Marlene says waggling her eyebrows. 

If James let himself be angry, Sirius would take that as permission and run with it, and between Regulus and Severus, let alone the others… there’d be all out dueling in the corridors in no time. But he is mad, and she can see the fire in his eyes, the ruthless control with which he tamps it down, and she’s, it’s—

Breathtaking. 

And totally not the right time. Or the right… anything. It’s just all wrong, not right. He’s not right, no, he’s perfect, and she’s the one that’s wrong, she’s a bloody mess, for fuck’s sake.

“I don’t know, James, you haven’t lost a game, but seems like we’ve lost Lily. Lily? Earth to Evans?” 

She shoves Marlene, which doesn’t really go as planned considering Marlene is under her, and flops a little more, which is, of course, incredibly attractive and graceful, she’s sure. Really keeping ‘em on their toes, there Evans, she thinks to herself. “Oh bugger off, you two. Quidditch, quidditch, quaffles, cups, I’m paying attention. Not a good practice, James?” And that’s new, too. The ‘James’ thing, but calling him Potter now seems weird. That’s more of a ‘I’m definitely docking points because you exist and are horrible’ thing and less of a ‘you are horribly attractive and I’m vanishing myself so I don’t have to look at you anymore’ thing. The latter definitely requires a first name basis, and she can’t help it. She likes saying his name. Sue her. 

“Sorry for her, she’s angsting presently. It seems like someone is having trouble studying.”

“Marls.” Marlene just smirks down at her. Lily is going to hex her pumpkin juice at supper. 

***

It’s probably for the best, he reckons, that he isn’t heading up to the dorm just yet. He knows his best mates, and if he goes up there now there’ll be no stopping the retribution. James knows he won’t be able to stop himself once Sirius, Remus and Peter are on board, he’s having trouble stopping himself from storming back out of the common room now.

There’s nothing right about this, and Professors are struggling to keep a firm grip on it. That had been proven last year, and it’s only getting worse.

James’ fists are clenched tightly, and his knuckles are starting to go white, but Marlene’s talking as if she has a secret that she doesn’t plan on sharing, and the prospect of trying to figure it out is distracting, and it’s everything he needs in this moment.

“That’s what I asked, innit?” The Marauder grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as he watches the pair of girls.

Only Lily isn’t answering, she looks a little lost, almost as if her eyes are glazed over and she isn’t paying attention. He watches her carefully for a moment, the corner of his mouth starting to tick upwards in the start of a lopsided smile, and his jaw starts to lose some of its tension as he unclenches it.

“I reckon you’re right, Marlene. Lils?” James has to fight the instinct to wave his hand in front of her face, and he’s grateful for that small bout of self-preservation as the redhead shoves her best friend. Is this a continuation of the secret Marlene isn’t willing to share? It’d be so easy to push and prod, to find the right pressure points and get them to spill their guts, but what’s the fun in that? “Not our greatest, no.” He blows out a breath as he stretches out his legs towards the fire, not sure if he’s hoping to dry all of the wetness off just yet.

There’s a fair amount of mud mixed in too.

With a lazy wave of his wand, and a quick cleaning spell, the mud is gone.

“Angst-ing?” He echoes, not bothering to ask the more obvious question of what the bloody hell that means. “Over studying?” James doesn’t say anything more for a moment, and instead looks at Lily – trying not to laugh. “If there’s anyone who doesn’t need to study for this exam, it’s you Evans. I’ve seen you. You’ll be brilliant.”

***

She’s mortified. Mortified and outraged, and absolutely going to get revenge. She glares at Marlene, who is supposed to be her friend, and ignores the blush no doubt ravishing her cheeks. Good thing James is clueless, about pretty much everything besides Quidditch, otherwise she’d be doomed. 

Ugh, the lazy way James uses magic is a crime and a sin, and, and all those other terrible things you’re not supposed to do ever because it puts people’s souls at risk. In this case, hers. Her soul is definitely at risk. One hundred percent. Actually, might be past that point now. She huffs and hopes he and Marlene are happy together in hell, where they’ll no doubt be neighbors. ‘Course, she’ll probably be Marlene’s roommate there too. She doesn’t remember a lot about Christianity but there was definitely something about lust in there that’s supposed to be a no go. Ah well, that ship sailed in fourth year. 

“Oh ho!” Marlene says, almost bursting with sheer glee. “Your faith in Evans is astounding, but no, actually this time, it’s understudying, ain’t it, Lils? Red’s got herself a problem with daydre—Oof!” Lily smiles grimly as her elbow meets its mark in Marlene’s gut. 

“Problem with sleeping. I’ve got a problem with sleeping, because my roommate is an arse,” she hisses, glaring up at said roommate. It’s not strictly untrue; she hasn’t been sleeping well, and her roommate is definitely an arse, but the real reason is sprawled across the armchair she’d shoved him into weeks ago, the one she’d hovered over, and stared at his really unfairly tempting lips and almost—

“I mean, normally I’d agree,” she says with a wry smile, only somewhat shy. “I am brilliant, but this is our first time taking exams in a NEWT-level course, and I just can’t help thinking I’m gonna blow it. Plus, I, uh, I really could use some better sleep.” So if you’d kindly poof off to Durmstrang for a tick, so that I can actually focus on something other than your snargaluff head of hair, that’d be great, ta. 

***

Marlene’s taking the piss out of Lily for something, there’s nothing to doubt now. He may have thought the redhead blushing that night had been a figment of his imagination – that he really had been hit in the head a little too hard – but there’s nothing hiding it now. He’s not hurt, and with the fire going it’s not so dark in the common room. Plus, this time, he thinks, Sirius will have to believe him because he’s got a witness.

Her retorts are slower than usual, and James ought to know. He’d been on the receiving side of Lily’s quick wit, and while admirable, it wasn’t a side he liked to go up against often. So, whatever it is, must really be getting under her skin. If it’s NEWT levels...well, that sounds laughable, doesn’t it? Not that he’d ever say it aloud, but if anyone had a reason to not question themselves in class it was her.

“Did you smuggle liquor in, McKinnon?” It’s the first real grin he’s had since the incident at Quidditch pitch, but really, what fun are secrets if she isn’t planning on sharing? Judging by Lily’s reaction it’s a good one, and honestly James is just relieved that he’s back on Marlene’s good side again.

Although in his defense, he’s not really sure what he ever did to end up on her bad side. For good measure, he could always slip into Honeydukes and bring back a few things, but the candy might be better used for different information.

“That’s a rather easy solution though, isn’t it?” Marlene can’t be the worst roommate in the world, and in the history of Hogwarts, there were loads of roommates that likely weren’t the most compatible. “I mean you are a witch.” A quick spell would take care of the noise, or whatever it was that was keeping Lily up at night. Or Madam Pomfrey could give her a potion.

It was one way to take care of the lack of sleep, or Lily could always brew her own. If anything, she had demonstrated last full moon that she was more than capable.

“You’re not.” His confidence in her isn’t misplaced. “The worst that’ll happen is you’ll get an exceeds expectations and you’ll adjust and get it next time.” James rolls his neck, and feels only slightly better once he feels that small click. “S’not the main test, Evans. You’ve got ages until that comes ‘round and by then you’ll be all set.”

***

He’s honestly clueless, James Potter is, and she has no idea why she’s so enamored with him—she’d say it’s his brain on any other day, but honestly James, it’s smacking you in the face. But actually, she’ll take being sloshed over this madness any day. “Yes, she smuggled in so so much liquor. We’re sloshed, sozzled—” She elbows Marlene again. 

“Off the bloody trolly, we are,” she adds in after a pause. “Lils, you are a witch, now that I think of it. How come you didn’t think of that, hm?” James doesn’t seem like he’s buying it. Bullocks. Merlin’s saggy tits, she can’t catch a bloody break. It’s not like there’s magic for this, either. Well, actually, she read once about this potion, basically the anti-love potion, but it came with some nasty side effects, if she recalls, and besides… 

Despite how bloody awful this whole business with, with liking him is, she’s not sure she’d get rid of it, even if she had the chance. 

“Right, well. It’s the uh, the principle of the thing, really. I could solve this with magic, or, Marlene can stop being a bloody prat about it all, and we’ll be just fine,” and honestly the sickly sweet smile could never pass as anything other than a grimace. 

“No can do, babydoll. Take me or leave me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

She signs and lolls about a bit, before rolling onto her side (over Marlene’s legs) to face James. The weird thing is, Marlene has been saying the same thing for days (in between her jibes about Potter), but hearing James say it actually does kind of reassure her. And besides, she’s always been a good test taker, she’s just never been quite so preoccupied. 

“I thought you two were studying together these days? Is it not helping?” Marlene asks innocently, and honestly, Lily is gonna kill her. “Maybe it’s a problem with focus. Something on your mind, Evans? Something… distracting you?”

“Yeah, thoughts of murder,” she hisses back. 

***

They’re acting absolutely mental, and it’s damn near impossible to follow. But he doesn’t get up, in fact James makes no effort to move and if he sits still long enough – another impossible feat – he’s sure he could fall asleep right there. This new burgeoning friendship with Lily Evans is fun, it’s exciting, and well he might not be in on the joke that’s going on between the girls just yet, but if it’s at his expense he doesn’t mind laughing at himself.

He refuses to acknowledge, however, that Lily Evans is the main reason he isn’t getting up to do what ought to be done. He needs a shower, he needs to go talk to Sirius, and really a nice night of sleep doesn’t sound like the worst idea he’s had. No, instead James tells himself that if the team needs him, he’s more readily accessible in the common room. And really, as Captain he should be there if any of them want to talk.

Yep.

“I’ve seen you at parties, Marls. This isn’t it.” In truth, he never had thought they would have, even if he’s sure he’d like a drink right about now. With the cloak it wouldn’t take long to convince Sirius or Remus to go out to Hogsmeade, but he can’t really be arsed to move.

Because of the team.

James clears his throat, even though he’s positive that Lily or Marlene in the past five minutes, haven’t become skilled at reading minds.

Distracting? What in Merlin’s beard – his eyes flash to Marlene quickly, his brain scrambling to keep up, but honestly this is the at least the second time she’s hinted at something in as many weeks. He doesn’t buy that the break up was due to him, he doubts he’s ever influenced Lily’s decision in anything, apart from standing up for Snivellus but...

No, he’s not going down that route.

“We’ve been,” James supplies as he raises his arms over his head to stretch. “Bloody helpful she’s been too.” And now he’s fairly certain the other Gryffindor is hinting at this notion that he’s had something to with Cresswell – fucking prat – and really, well, Marlene could use a dose of her own medicine. “I dunno, McKinnon. Sounds like someone’s projecting. What’s distracting you so much this term?”

***

The gig is just about up, and Lily’ll be damned before James hears about her problem from anyone but her. And he’ll never hear it from her, either. Although… she gives herself a moment to imagine it, sinking her fingers into that ridiculous hair whenever she wanted, tasting the butterbeer on his lips, crawling into his lap after a long day of classes… 

The blush is going to get stuck on her face, with the luck she’s got these days. 

“At least someone is benefitting from the study sessions,” she grumbles, even though there’s a warm gurgle of pleasure in her stomach at the thought that he’s enjoyed them. Or well, finds them helpful. He hasn’t actually said he enjoys them, but she can infer. Can she infer? She feels like she can, it’s James after all. It’s hardly news, how he feels about her. 

Although, it has been a while since he said anything like that. Her previous pleasure spoils and she feels a pinch of alarm. What if, what if he’s moved on? What if he’s given up on her? A vision of James and Marlene snogging fills her mind, and after suppressing the snort—honestly they’d kill each other—she feels a touch uncomfortable. Is that what it was like for James? Watching her and Dirk? (Her and Reg, her and Archibald Duggen…). 

Well, whatever. It’s fine. Because they’re not like that (even though they probably could be, and it’d probably be really nice, and she bets they’d have some excellent snogging sessions…but that’s besides the point).   
To her surprise, instead of blowing off James’ words, Marlene goes beat red. 

“Marlene Eimear McKinnon, you dog!” And then Lily finds herself on the floor because her wanker of a best friend just dumped her off her lap. She can’t help it though, she’s giggling because this is wonderful. Absolutely brilliant. “You’ve gotta spill now, Marls. Who can possibly make you blush like that, hm?? Is it a seventh year?” Marlene’s lips tighten, but her face gets even redder. Lily’s got her elbows on Marlene’s knees now, giddy with the chance for revenge. “Younger? No? ARE THEY OLDER, MARLENE!?” 

“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about, Evans. Oh! Look at the time, I have an appointment anywhere else but here, toodaloo, ta ta, sleep at your own risk.”

Marlene stands, tossing Lily to the floor again, and makes a hasty escape, to the tune of heckles and hoots. “You can’t hide from me, Marlene Eimear! I’ll learn your secrets!” And actually, maybe she shouldn’t be so, well, zealous about making fun of Marlene, with James right there, but also Marlene has been an absolute terror ever since, well, since feelings happened, and she’s got to take what happiness she can where she can. And this brings her such happiness. 

She sits up and leans back on her hands, and grins over at James. “New mission, it is imperative we learn who is the cause of that blush.” Then she thinks about the cause of her blush and blushes a little harder. “Thanks, uh, by the way. For getting her off my case. And for getting me on hers. And um. For. Well. Nothing else. No more thank yous.” 

***

He expects Marlene to react, it’s exactly the reason he’s said it. It’s relatively harmless, and she knows he’s aware of what’s been going on to some extent so he hardly needs to press with more detail. It’s one of the brilliant benefits that has come with living in close proximity to the McKinnons, apart from the one summer Lily had visited, and he had been dragged away by Sirius before he could have done something to truly embarrass himself.

There had been a bit of a theme of that, it seems.

Quickly, James’ eyes flicker to Lily and he watches her for a moment. She’s never hesitated to tell him what she’s thinking before, especially when she wasn’t thinking particularly nice things, and it’s getting harder to ignore Marlene’s accusation that her split with Cresswell had been caused somewhat – if not entirely, according to the witch – by him.

The only thing he can’t understand is why.

James doesn’t get long to ponder, because as expected, his comment creates chaos. It’s what he strives for on most days, but the only thing he hadn’t accounted for was Marlene not going for his jugular in response. He reckons she can’t really retaliate against him, it’s no great secret that he fancies the redhead lounging on top of her, but his eyes flash with laughter as he begins to smirk.

And he could interject, really. He could throw out the fact that he’s seen a bloke with rather distinctive red hair show up on occasion, but the girls go on as if he’s not there. Really, Lily just needed a little ammunition to go off of, and now that she’s gotten it she’s more than equipped to serve her friend with a bit of her own medicine. He only laughs when Marlene gets up to leave, calling after her; “You know what they say about not being able to handle the heat, Marlene!”

But she’s long gone, and now it’s just him and Lily, and the rest of the common room has quieted as people begin to thin out.

And Lily Evans is on the ground, grinning as if she’s suddenly been dealt the best card, and for a minute all James can do is look at her. It takes a second for his brain to connect to his mouth, and remind his tongue to move because he can talk, after all. “Yeah, yeah. I think I might have an idea or two.” Marlene would have appreciated the twin pun. Maybe. “I’ll report back to you.”

Her thank you stumps him, and maybe even stumps her a little, and finally James just laughs. “Sure, Lily. Anything else you need me to do tonight? Any dragons need slaying?”

***

For a moment James looks gobsmacked, and then he chuckles and it’s her turn. He called her Lily. And it’s just a name, a flower, really, a little ostentatious as far as flowers go, if she’s being honest, but she’s always been fond of her name nonetheless, but she’s actually… not sure that she’s ever heard James say it. She’s actually positive she hasn’t, because certainly she’d remember her name on his tongue when it sounds like that. When he looks like that when he says it. 

He’s beautiful, and it’s not like she hasn’t seen it before, she was practically drooling over him a minute ago, but this… it’s not even a physical thing, she realizes. He’s just beautiful. With his smile and his laughter and his wit, and–

Oh. 

Oh. Oh no. 

Panic unfurls in her gut, and her smile wobbles a little. This is terrible. This is absolutely horrid. 

“Don’t be daft, Potter,” she says, using his surname because Merlin help her she doesn’t have the strength for any more given names at the moment. For fuck’s sake she’s worse than a Victorian-era maid. “If I had access to a dragon, I’d hardly want you to slay it. They’re nearly extinct you know.” She needs to go, she needs to leave right now, God, she’s acting like a total dolt—

“Do you have time? Tonight? To study?” Her eyes widen because no, no! That wasn’t supposed to happen! That is not what she meant to say! She remembers the practice and the look in his eye when he came in and hastily tries to erase that from their collective memory. “Actually, no, it’s late, you’re probably busy. Sirius is probably pining dramatically across a chaise somewhere waiting for you. Godric forbid he ever actually try to occupy himself—”

***

They’ve reverted back into familiar territory, and even though he’s somewhat relieved, James can’t help but wonder whether or not it’s permanent. He likes this newfound territory they’re in. The Gryffindor isn’t sure whether or not he can quite classify it as friendship, but it feels it is. Or it could be. It seems silly, for some reason, to slip what they have into something as insignificant as people who study together.

He hasn’t really needed to study before, and truth be told he isn’t worrying about it, not like she is. Somehow it always falls into place, and he manages. This, very obviously, is more about spending time with her. If she’s managed to catch on.

Then again, subtly isn’t exactly one of his strengths.

Her lecture about dragons only causes him to laugh louder. “Just a turn of phrase, Evans. Haven’t you ever read a muggle fairytale?” James can’t help but tease as he looks towards the fireplace, shifting to get more comfortable in the plush chair.

“Hm?” James pretends to think it over, even though it must be painfully obvious that of course, even if studying is the last thing he wants to do – hell he’s not even sure if he has any work that needs doing – he will. His eyebrows raise over his glasses as he watches her, head tilting to the side. It’s endearing, and it’s adorable, and he’s not laughing at her. His shoulders are merely shaking of their own accord.

“I’m sure Sirius will manage,” even if the thought is wildly amusing. A part of him wants to point out that Padfoot occupying himself might be the worst option out of all those she’s listed, but wisely, because he doesn’t want to be shooed off, James keeps his mouth shut. “What’s on tonight’s agenda, then?”

***

Lily can’t help it, but smile in relief, and feels even more a fool for it. She’s giddy, giddy, at the thought of just another few minutes doing this. Just sitting and joking around and smiling at each other. Because she’s desperate to hang on to this, to be normal even for a night. No death eaters skulking around corners, no casting protego charms over first years just to make sure they make it to their classes, no religiously writing her parent every day, just so that she knows the last thing she’s said to them will have been that she loves them, just in case, just in case. 

And as the relief washes over, she realizes how much time she’s wasted. She doesn’t know how he feels about her, only that he’s stopped pursuing her, stopped flirting, and she was glad. She was, only now… Well, he’s her friend, now, she thinks. And she likes him, so much. And there’s so much bad in the world right now, but he’s not. He’s good. 

And she let him pass her by. 

So she’ll take a study session, and she shouldn’t have to feel bad about it. She does like him. She does. And it’s scary, and it makes her heart hurt, but maybe this is what they need. Even if she doesn’t get to have him, she can have this. Peace, and laughter. 

“Well, I’m a bit behind in transfiguration, honestly,” she’s really not, “you seemed to really have a knack for the conjuring we’ve been working on. I can’t get my bubbles to not pop,” she admits sheepishly. She can, but she could use the practice. She could use the borrowed time, because she knows it won’t last forever. “If you want, I could maybe look over your charms essay?” 

He deserves to smile, and so does she, and maybe it’s time she stops fighting that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment her mouth opens the snowball is lobbed with precise accuracy, and once itl finds its mark James laughs. Loudly.
> 
> “Now, Evans,” he’s really back-peddling now, nearly tripping over his feet in the snow as he laughs. “That was an accident, truly.” It wasn’t, although he did have the courtesy to not aim for her head. His next target is that sweet spot on the back between the shoulders, where it has that nasty habit of getting snow down the back of the coat. “That gust of wind, Merlin, did you see it? Nearly blew me right over, and well. Must have slipped right out of my fingers.”
> 
> ____
> 
> the tag for this one was #PURE AND SIMPLE SCHMOOP

He’s in desperate need of fresh air. Or at least, that’s the excuse James is going with because the castle has begun to feel suffocating as of late. But he’s not willing to give up these study sessions either, even if he hasn’t _really_  been studying. It’s been less worrying about the work, and more wanting to spend time with her.

They’re  _friends_ , and it’s nice.  James just isn’t sure he has another minute in him to sit in the library, his chair pushed back so it’s resting on its hind legs, as he pretends that he’s more focused on the textbook on the table instead of the redhead across the table.

How he’s managed to convince her he isn’t sure – he’s going to run with it – but they’re outside now, and the cool air is refreshing. James can see his breath, and a part of him thinks it feels like it could snow. The grounds are already blanketed with the stuff, and-

**Brilliant.**

Only, Lily’s been speaking to him and James has no clue what she’s said (something about the essay if he has to guess). His hands slip out of his pocket, and he holds all appearances of paying attention as he begins to loosely pack a snowball together.

“No more,” he finally cries out dramatically, taking a step backwards in the snow. “Now, you’ve got a chance to explain yourself –  _ah, ah, don’t interrupt_  – and if the next words out of your mouth have anything to with potions, or charms, or anything studies related…well…” He holds up the snowball as innocently as he can manage.

Only, he doesn’t give Lily a chance. The moment her mouth opens the snowball is lobbed with precise accuracy, and once itl finds its mark James laughs.  _Loudly_.

“Now, Evans,” he’s really back-peddling now, nearly tripping over his feet in the snow as he laughs. “That was an accident, truly.” It  **wasn’t** , although he did have the courtesy to not aim for her head. His next target is that sweet spot on the back between the shoulders, where it has that nasty habit of getting snow down the back of the coat. “That gust of wind, Merlin, did you see it? Nearly blew me right over, and well. Must have slipped right out of my fingers.”

***

Honestly, whoever had the great idea of trying to study with James Potter of all people must’ve been barking mad because it’s the  _worst idea ever._ She’s never seen his hair look more ridiculous, presumably from all of the constant finicking he does with it. He hasn’t turned the page in… seventeen minutes, not that she’s actually keeping track, but it’s still infuriating regardless, because his essay is three inches longer than hers already, the great big prat. And if he doesn’t put his chair back on all four legs in exactly one minute, it’s really not going to be her fault if she can’t resist the temptation to kick it out from underneath him any longer, is it? 

Perhaps divine intervention has occurred, because his chair falls to the floor, and he declares their studying to be done for the day, which, thank Merlin. She would’ve packed up an hour ago, only she’s made it a point of pride in never turning in before he does. Besides, she’s in too deep now to keep on deluding herself. She’ll take every second she can get. As soon as they start walking, she launches into her new favorite game: how long can she get away with monologuing at him before he spontaneously combusts? It had started off relatively long—she’s only just now realizing how much James actually puts up with just to hear her talk, which, absolutely is ridiculous, and not at all charming in the slightest—but it’s getting shorter by the day. 

“—oomslang skin is really fascinating as far as potions ingredients go, don’t you think? I know Sluggy’s got some in his stores, but I hadn’t found a record of it in any of our textbooks, or even the restricted register. Apparently, it’s used in transformative potions, like the Polyjuice potion, and I was wondering if that had to do with—”   


A new record. Not even a minute. 

“Don’t—!” Ah, but he did. She blinks, eyes narrowing as she watches wet clumps of snow drip off her parka. Poor boy, she thinks as he laughs. Doesn’t even know he’s doomed.   


“You know what, come to think of it, the wind  _is_ picking up.  _Scopoviburnum!”_ She says with a vicious jab of her wand. And,  _oh,_ isn’t it lovely, the way thirty perfectly formed snowballs rise up in sync from their snowy blankets, and dive bomb him relentlessly. “Why, James, I think there’s going to be a storm!”

***

Lily Evans is more game for a laugh than James had previously anticipated, but she’s not laughing. It only makes it that much better, he thinks, that he can’t guess what her reaction will be. There’s a thrill in the seconds leading up to the witch making her decision, and while he knows he should be preparing for whatever she’s about to throw right back at him, James just keeps grinning as he back peddles, the snow getting deeper the further he goes.

He’s mad for her, and he knows it.

“Oh no, it was a one-time gust I think.” He’s full of crap and he’s sure she’s aware. Eyeing her wand, he’s out of time, and is left scrambling to try and come up with anything to buy a little more. “The forecast is clear for the rest of the night, I reckon.” She’s not really going to use magic, is she? It’s a stupid question,  _of course she is_ , and it’s so much better than sitting in the library.

He manages to dart out of the way of one of the snowballs, only to be pelted in quick succession by three more. “Cheater!” He calls out, and it’s punctuated with another loud burst of laughter because Merlin’s tits he can’t see. Lily’s not as restrained with her spell as he had been with his aim – it’s a clever one, he’ll need to remember it for later – and the last bit of snow has to be wiped from his shoulder and neck.

“That’s just lazy, Evans.” He’s one to talk. Lazy it might be, considering he’s started a proper muggle snowball fight, but he can’t deny that her methods. He’s pushing snow into a pile now, his wand largely forgotten because now he’s got make a point, hasn’t he? “But I s’pose it makes sense. We both know you’d never win without magic.”

James sports a positively shit-eating grin as he holds up another snowball as if it’s a gauntlet. “S’alright. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last.”

***

Lily roars with laughter, as her snowballs pelt him everywhere they can reach. “Aw, ickle Prongsy pouting, now?” She says, eyes alight. She’s only recently started calling him by the name he and his friends came up with, but she can’t help it, it  _suits_ him. “Don’t be mad that I’m beating you at your own game!” But he’s gone full tilt muggle now, on his hands and knees making a wall of snow, and she’s delighted, memories of past winters with Petunia and Snape not even able to bring her down now. 

She pockets her wand as well, and gets to stockpiling behind a low wall in the courtyard. James might be bold, but this is her territory. The snow is perfect for packing and she’s got ten snowballs prime for launching in no time. “Lies and slander! Renege your words or face the consequences!” She cries out and launches a snowball right into the crown of his bowed head, just because she can’t let the insult stand. 

“I’m the reigning champion of the 1971 Cokeworth Winter Games!” Factually, not _inaccurate,_ but considering there’s no such thing, perhaps slightly misleading. She did always win any games which occurred in the winter, mostly because Sev was dreadful at physical activity and Tuney was a bit of a coward, but still. Reigning champ. “Let ‘em fly, Potter! I’m not afraid of y— _oof!_

 

_***_

Her words cause him to pause in building his snow fort – and honestly, it gives his hands a moment to warm up because he’s forgotten his gloves – even though it’s not the first time she’s said something. James doesn’t know how he hasn’t realized, but Lily’s not only caught onto the nicknames (not a true challenge considering how much the lads use them) but she’s deciphered who is who.

She’s paying attention enough to take note, and he doesn’t know why, but the thought is wildly amusing.

And confusing.

He’s likely putting too much thought into it, and Sirius’ll make fun of him for ages about it, but he’s a fight to win so it gets put on the back burner for now. “Hardly, you’re playing a different game.”

Not that he can fault her. Changing the rules, finding ways to bend them into a positive light, well…James is a big fan, and it’s bloody admirable.

The impact of a snowball reminds him that getting distracted by his opponent, no matter how pretty, is going to be his downfall if he doesn’t regroup. His snow wall is lacking, half of it looks like it’s about to crumble due the hastily made nature of its existence, and Lily’s gone straight for the offense. His response is to lean over his defensive wall and throw three snowballs in quick succession. “You’ll have to make me first!”

His first instinct is to ask exactly what the Cokeworth Winter Games consist of, but there’s a more pressing, urgent, matter to address. “Evans, are you  _bragging_?” His snowballs are packed together, and he only lifts his head to grin in her direction. “You are. Not everything is a competition, y’know. I think you told me that once-”

It’s impossible to keep a straight face, especially when he’s certain his next few snowballs are going to hit their intended target. “Ready to surrender, yet?”

***

It’s the very start of winter, and the snow has yet to grow slushy and grey. It’s still fresh and pristine, and the cold hasn’t seeped into her bones yet. Winter will never be her favorite season, but this part at least, she doesn’t mind. Not yet. Especially not with James here, kindly offering his big fat head to her for a target. Excellent. 

And if she squeals when she makes a direct hit, well, being a good sport was never in the cards for her. “I DEMAND SATISFACTION!” She yells, and lets another snowball fly. Her manual aim is really not that great though, and she has no chance to recalculate as his launches his offensive. It hard to actually manage  _words_  between the giggles, but really, she cannot let such a grievous insult go uncorrected. “I  _do not brag,_ Potter,” she says with faux consternation, as she wipes wet snow off her face. 

“Merely state the facts! You should have all the information before you make a decision you regret. _Oppugno,_ ” she says sweetly, and all of his snowballs fly into the air and attack him, even more robustly than her first spell. This one lets each snowball head back in for seconds. 

“Ready to surrender yet?” She singsongs, mocking him, plopping herself down on his snow wall and tossing a snowball back and forth as the others continue their assault.   


***

He won’t give in to using magic, he won’t. Now that he’s made such a point about it, his pride will never allow him to stoop to her level.

James debates it though, because really, it would even the playing field and it looks like she’s having the time of her life, the little cheater. He won’t ruin her fun James decides as he all but trips to avoid another snowball - one of his traitorous own, no less!

“‘m sorry,’ he laughs, utterly lost in their conversation now. There’s likely multiple offenses Lily would like to demand satisfaction for, and for the life of him James doesn’t know which one. “What would  _satisfaction_  look like? The way I see it, Evans,” and he does ** _not_**  yelp when a well-placed snowball hits the back of his head, definitely not. “You’ve nothing to demand satisfaction for. I’ve been nothing but downright gentlemanly- chivalrous, even! A prime example of all that Gryffindor stands for.”

Her face looks flushed from the fight, and she’s beautiful. The proper thing to do would to concede, to let her win, and surrender.

Instead James fights his way through her cheating snowballs, and picks up an armful of his newly destroyed defense wall. “Take no prisoners, do you?” He asks with a lopsided grin, standing over her.

And he releases it, letting the wet blanket of snow cover her in an attempt to not be so brutally destroyed by her because surrendering is not an option.

“Truce?”

It’s only slightly more acceptable. 

***

“Chivalrous?!” She laughs, because  _really._ “How about slanderous? Conniving! Perhaps incapable of admitting defeat?” And really, she stands by her words. Magic isn’t cheating when you’re literally attending magic school. It’s basically studying in and of itself. Practical applications and all that. 

She knows what’s coming but she doesn’t fight it. Instead, just before he buries her with his stupid snow wall, she raises and eyebrow and meets his eye. “I don’t know, I might take one,” she says, and maybe blushes a little but she timed it right because he won’t see her blush under all the— “ _OOF!”_

It’s cold and wet but the snow is comfy for the moment, so she lays back and laughs. How silly she feels, and yet there’s none of the shame that comes with feeling silly the way it does with anyone else. Petunia abhors silliness in all forms these days, because it’s not becoming or some other pretentious ridiculousness she’s come up with lately. Severus used to love goofing around like this, until all of a sudden he didn’t anymore, and would just scowl at her when she tried to joke around with him. James is constantly laughing at her, but it never makes her feel embarrassed or ashamed. Just makes her want to laugh harder. 

She doesn’t reply to his question, merely holds out a hand to shake on it. They will not be shaking on it, of course, this  _is_  war after all. 

***

 “Only if it’s not true!” He calls back with a laugh. She should know that better than he does, what with what her dad does and all. Unless he had misheard during one of their study sessions, with all the pretend studying he had been doing. Either way, she can’t prove it, and he’s not about to take a  _cheater’s word_  for it.

A cheater buried in snow, no less. The sight makes the thought a little easier, and it’s better for this to wrap up sooner rather than later. And not merely just because James has decidedly won. It’s getting colder out, darker even, and they aren’t dressed for this kind of winter fun. It has everything to do with getting back in the castle to get warm, and nothing to do with the fact that he’s absolutely making sure that he keeps the win.

Not at all.

He can’t help the broad grin that breaks across his face as he watches her lay back. This is why it’s fun, James thinks. Rather than get offended, not only has Lily proven to be a worthy snowball opponent, she damn near beat him.

Because, he maintains, he’s the winner.

And if James wasn’t so determined to hold onto his victory, he’d flop into the snow next to her and enjoy it. But now that he’s seen her in action, he can’t trust her not to use some more of her cheating ways, and have snowballs appear out of thin air or something just to get him. He knows better, she can’t just look at him with those gorgeous eyes of hers and expect him to –

James eyes her hand warily, because he knows better. He  _knows it_ , but he can’t help himself when it comes to Lily Evans, and his hand wraps around hers to help her up. “Nice match, Evans. A worthy attempt. C’mon, up you go.”

***

The best part is, he  _knows_  what she’s going to do. She can see it in his eyes, he’s wary of her, and she bits her lip, because  _good._ She may not have as much of a reputation as he and his ‘marauder’ pals in terms of mischievousness, but never let it be said Evans can’t play. 

He takes her hand, and she arches her brow. “A worthy  _attempt?”_ She asks. Challenge bloody accepted, and she  _yanks._

Of course, she doesn’t account for the fact that James only has one place to go, and that’s  _down._ You know, where she is. So he’s on top of her. There’s a layer of snow between them, and she suddenly thanks all the four founders for it. If she had to deal with  _feeling_  him on top of dealing with how many ruddy colors are in his eyes, which are  _right there._ Well, she’s not holding herself responsible for her actions. 

“Whoops. You must’ve slipped,” she whispers, biting back a giggle. 

***

“Yes, a  _worthy attempt_. You know, Evans, when you give your all but ultimately… ** _lose_**.” It’s punctuated with a laugh, that quickly shifts into a yelp when she tugs. His eyes widen slightly as he realizes that his instinct is spot on, but he’s done nothing to prepare himself. The smart thing would have been to brace his weight, to laugh loudly when Lily would have been unable to tug him down, but foolishly he’s lost in those eyes of hers, and he falls victim to her  _wiles,_  and-

James has only a second to catch himself before his whole weight hits her, and he _oofs_  softly. They’re impossibly close, and his eyes study her face as he catches his breath.

Whether it’s from their snowball fight, their current position, or a mixture of both, James refuses to entertain the thought for long.

He wants to say a hundred things, ranging from something along the lines of how if this is where she wanted him, all she had to do was ask, to some kind of compliment that would somehow do her justice. Instead, all James manages is some sort of noise in the back of his throat, which he promptly clears in attempt to mask it, before he rolls over to settle on his back beside her.

“Dirty trick,” James finally speaks once he trusts himself to not make such a fool of himself. “Now you’ve taken advantage of my model sportsmanship like behavior. Nothing’s safe around you.” He bumps his shoulder against hers, before he shifts to his side to watch her. “Cold, Evans?”

***

It takes everything she has in her not to groan. For a split second, his face hovers above hers, eyes wide and  _so close,_ and she  _knows_ this is it. He’s actually gonna kiss her this time, Merlin help her. And if he doesn’t, well, she’s got two lips and  _need_. 

And then he’s gone. She blinks up at the gray sky and bites back a truly impressive stream of expletives. She’s known James Potter since he was eleven, and if there’s one thing he does not have, it’s self-control. Why is this happening to her.  _Why, damn it._

Tongue in cheek, she heaves a sigh,  _gets over it,_ and rolls her head to grin at him. “Cheaters always win, Potter. How else do you think Macnair managed to get top scores in History of Magic last term?” She picks up a handful of snow and lazily tosses it at him. She snorts, because she  _wasn’t_ cold, but now that he’s had to be all chivalrous and leave her exposed to the elements, yeah, it’s a little chilly. She whispers a spell she figured out last year and flicks her wand. The air around them warms rapidly, but the tiny flakes swirling around in her warm breeze don’t melt either. She’s particularly proud of that one. “Not anymore.” 

***

Friends. They’re friends, and it’s taken bloody long to find some sort of rhythm and now- James laughs to himself, and watches the puff of his breath before it fades into the cool air. Maybe it’s different now, it  _feels different_ , but it’s not different enough either. Or he’s thinking about it too much, in which case, when he inevitably brings it up to Sirius later, he’ll be made well aware of that fact.

Sirius. The Lads. He’s running late, ridiculously so judging on how dark it’s gotten, and yet James can’t bring himself to get up and make the excuse. It’s comfortable like this, even in the cold, wet snow. And when Lily Evans looks at him like that, with a bright smile and her face flushed, it’s hard to remember exactly what excuse he’s supposed to make.

“Huh?” They’re talking about…some Slytherin, and Binns’ class, and – “Oi!” James cries out, and uses some of the snow that she’s just tossed his way. “Isn’t that how this started in the first place? You’re a glutton for losing snowball fights, Evans. And once I can feel my fingers I’m happy to be of service.” Or perhaps tomorrow, he thinks. In the daylight. That’d be a sight.

“Show off,” he laughs, finally shouldering himself up. “C’mon Evans, we best get inside before we get you in trouble.”

 

 


End file.
